By the time Dean located two woolen socks that were at least the same color, Cynthia was finished dressing. She emerged from the bathroom in flashy purple ski pants, a matching wool sweater. She did a quick pirouette. "Like it?" she asked.
"Super! But you'd look super in a sack cloth and rags."
"It's the outfit my mom sent for Christmas." Cynthia's widowed mother was a librarian in a small Indiana town. They had not seen her since their wedding but Cynthia spoke to her by telephone frequently and the two were as close as the distance allowed.
"She has great taste. But it's too bad she didn't send you one of those itsy-bitsy outfits all the really cool skaters wear," he answered.
"Why would you want me to wear something so daring, darling?" she asked with a smile.
"So you could show off those incredible legs of yours and I could watch your cute little boom-boom as I followed you, gliding around the rink." He added, "When you're doing all those double Lutzes and triple Saulchows and stuff...just like on TV."
Cynthia laughed. "Dream on! Besides, I haven't skated since I was twelve. But you've got the 'following' part right. There's no doubt you'll be following me, if you're not plunked down on the ice on your own cute little boom-boom. Besides, watching someone's boom-boom isn't nice. Now that you're past forty and bordering on geezerdom, you're beginning to sound like a dirty old man."
"I've always been a dirty old man. Now I'm just an older dirty old man. But I wish you'd stop mentioning my age."
The Ouray skating rink was located on the north side of town, snuggled beneath the shade of a canyon wall to the east. The facility was funded in part by the city's recreation department, whose funds were, for the most part, generated from the highly profitable hot spring pool that operated year around at the edge of town. Private donations and an abundance of volunteer labor helped make the skating rink a success. While the facility lacked artificial ice, piped in waltz music, a snack bar and a Zamboni, there was no fee charge and it was lighted for nighttime use, making it a very popular spot. The rink was an object of pride to the citizens of the small, highly active community.
School was back in session after the holiday recess so the rink was nearly empty. The only other skaters were a mother and her four-year old pig-tailed professional level daughter and an old man who skated like a retired gold medalist. Cynthia, whose tiny five-two body possessed far more gracefulness than her husband's, managed to look as born on blades as the other two skaters. Dean spent much time clinging to the sideboards until his wife, with a heart full of charity and an arm about his waist, supported him in slow glides around the oval. The little girl, hair streaming, offered encouragement while skating backwards, one leg lifted high and beckoning unsuccessfully for Dean to follow.